


he would always remember (and he would always forget)

by ace (patchilles)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Death, M/M, Reincarnation, alcohol mention, drug mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchilles/pseuds/ace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do I ever love you in them?" Enjolras asks, his eyes wide with fear of what Grantaire will say.</p><p>Grantaire tries to smile. But he fails, if he can help it he tries not to remember those lives. The lives where he only watches from afar. Those lives never ended quick enough.</p><p>"Sometimes."</p><p>-</p><p>Grantaire remembers, Enjolras forgets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he would always remember (and he would always forget)

**Author's Note:**

> man okay this is my second fic on here and again its un-edited and un-beta'd.

> “ _And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you._ ”
> 
> \- The Chaos of Stars

  
  


//

  
  


In all of Grantaire's lifetimes- there's two things that always hold constant:

 

one, Grantaire always remembers

two, Enjolras always forgets.

  
  


//

  
  
  


In his first life he meets him.  

 

He's passionate and full of fire. Grantaire worries that if he gets too close he'll catch flame. So he stays away, admires from afar.

 

Drinking away the pain that eats away at his insides each time he catches a glance of his golden hair or those blue eyes. He drinks so that he can say it's the alcohol that's drowning him, that it's the alcohol that's running through him, tearing him apart, and he won't be a liar.

 

They fight.

 

Whenever he gets the chance he pokes and prods at him, trying to get his attention on him and only him, he's selfish but no man survives on just giving. He doesn't care what the subject, if Grantaire can get the fire inside of him to be there for him- he takes it. He calls him a fool, he says he doesn't believe in anything.

 

I believe in you, Grantaire replies- because he does, because it didn't matter what Enjolras as fighting for, as long as he was there, Grantaire would be too.

 

For the first time he dies beside him, their hands entwined together as the bullets shoot through the air.

  
  


//

(One of the things that plagues his thoughts is that he never tried, he never tried to get Enjolras to love him.

 

But then again, maybe he never stopped.)

  
  


//

  
  


Most of the time Grantaire spends his lives searching through Europe for even the smallest chance of seeing that head of blond hair, of hearing that voice that's set in his bones. He searches through the streets, his head whipping around at every crowd that gathers. He always finds blond hair, blue eyes, he always finds an argument. But none of them are him, none of them make his heart ache or his chest expand. Instead they remind him of the hollow feeling in his chest that's he's grown so used to, and the constant feeling of missing something he can never quite have.

 

//

 

One of the times he seems him, he's standing above a crowd, as he should be. He's speaking about a something, a cause of course that Grantaire couldn't see the point behind but as long as Enjolras was talking Grantaire would listen. As he speaks Grantaire moves through the crowd, trying to get closer, not afraid of being burned alive. Because he would just come back, and he would search for him again and again. Their eyes meet and Grantaire freezes, his heart seems to stop and start beating at the same time. It lasts only a moment but in those seconds Enjolras' voice falters and Grantaire can't think straight- could he remember? But he knows it's too good to be true.

 

Grantaire is cursed to remember and Enjolras is cursed to forget.

  
  


//

 

(Sometimes Grantaire wishes that he was to forget too, because it didn’t matter if he didn’t remember the Enjolras before he would love the next one with just as much fervor, and the next and next. Even if someone had opened him up and removed Enjolras from his mind, he would still be in his veins, he would still be in each breath he took because no matter if he remembers him or not- Enjolras was worse than any drug. He was way more intoxicating than any beverage.)

 

//

  
  


He sees him in other lives, not for a long time, just in moments. Just in glances.

 

Sometimes it's longer, sometimes he loves him back. But not for long. He always leaves, not always by choice but one way or another, Grantaire wakes up to cold sheets.

  
  


//

 

"I love you" Enjolras breathes into Grantaire's skin as his hands roam aimlessly between them, whispering the words over and over again like a mantra, because even Enjolras knows Grantaire will never believe him.

 

Grantaire just nods, biting his lip to keep the words from falling out, if he doesn't say them aloud, maybe that ache that lays so heavy in his chest will stop growing, maybe the hollow feeling that siphons air from his lungs will be filled and maybe, just maybe, what they have in this moment will last more than just a lifetime.

  
  


//

 

"How many lives has it been?"

 

It's late and it's dark and Grantaire can barely make out Enjolras features even though he's just inches away. His breath is hot against Grantaire’s chest where his head rests, their legs intertwined under the sheets.

 

"Eighty-three" Grantaire whispers.

 

Enjolras hums and runs his hands along Grantaire's arms, his skin forming chills wherever he touches.

 

"And how many have you seen me in?"

 

Grantaire’s hands tighten on Enjolras' waist, not enough, he thinks.

 

Moments pass but Enjolras doesn't pry, they just lay together, their heartbeats align.

 

Eventually he answers,

 

"Thirty-one."

 

Enjolras stiffens on top of him and he frowns. He pushes himself up on Grantaire's chest, his elbows on either side of his rib-cage. Grantaire notices his eyes are dark and heavy. Grantaire reaches up and brushes a hair from his face. Still bewildered that he's allowed to touch him, that he's allowed to call him his.

 

"Do I ever love you in them?" Enjolras asks, his eyes wide with fear of what Grantaire will say.

 

Grantaire tries to smile. But he fails, if he can help it he tries not to remember those lives. The lives where he only watches from afar. Those lives never ended quick enough.

 

"Sometimes."

 

and with that Enjolras is kissing him, not out of pity, or of sympathy. Enjolras kisses him, soft and insistent like an apology, but for what? Grantaires not sure. He doesn't ask though, doesn't want to. He's tired of remembering, he's intent on being here with him right now, and savouring it for as long as he can.

 

Eventually, Enjolras comes up for air. Breathing heavily, he grabs Grantaire’s face in his hands and looks him straight in the eye.

 

"Do you ever love me in them?"

 

Grantaire nods fervently, his chest aching. He leans forward and kisses him, he kisses him with all he has. He kisses him in replace of words that he will never say, about how each life he's looked for him and most of the time he's died alone and yearning.

 

"Always" Grantaire mumbles into the kiss, " _Always_."


End file.
